


Alive

by Birdbf



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Attempted Murder, Coping, Everybody Lives, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5739946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdbf/pseuds/Birdbf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazuaki Nanaki survived.<br/>But what kind of life was this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as KazuTohri fluff for my beloved rarepair and turned into some super-relatable suffering. Enjoy.
> 
> This is an AU, by the way!
> 
> Disclaimer::  
> I am an abuse survivor that has experienced this situation almost to a T. This is written with an observation and commentary on the effects of abuse. This story is written with that in mind, in order to be as realistic as possible. The purpose of this fic is not to glorify abuse. Thank you!

December 8th.

“Please! Hitori!” 

A choked sob drowned the quiet of the room. Outside of the apartment, one bed and one bath, traffic filled the quiet night with occasional honks and the sound of cars swerving against the particularly sharp right turn that often caused wrecks. The stars were pale against the sky, lit by the college town’s thriving nightlife. 

Kazuaki Nanaki, 5’9” on a good day, a natural blonde with soft eyelashes and pale grey-brown eyes, lay at the foot of the window. His gaze, not long before, had been locked on the sky he was destined to return to. To the stars he planned to one day visit, and the galaxies he was promised the opportunity to domineer. Now, at this moment, his view was transfixed on the man standing atop him, undressing him in the most uncaring way. Like he had done this so many times before, rehearsed and practiced, the other man almost seemed bored as he worked at stripping Kazuaki's convulsing body.

A red scarf skewered the silver quail's view as Hitori meticulously untied Kazuaki’s shawl, trying not to dab his palm or fingers in the puddle of watery bile dripping down Kazuaki’s cheeks from the edges of his mouth. Hitori would have to wash the scarf, of course; As Kazuaki couldn’t do anything right, he would absolutely make such a mess. The soft, tawny color of his shawl been stained by a mixture of clear acidic fluids and the quail’s lunch that afternoon, his final meal that he had proclaimed would be as romantic as The Last Supper, and it smelled wretched. 

Kazuaki could not even die easily, or quietly. For someone so complainant over the trivial pursuits of life, or someone who so desperately cried to meet his end, he just couldn’t get it over with. Clinging on to the fibers of life, he refused to let go.

Hitori removed the scarf from Kazuaki’s neck and tucked it inside of a grocery bag, seemingly disgusted by it, pinching it tight between an index and middle finger so as to not expose himself to his bodily fluids. Earlier that day, the clear bag had been filled with bottles of prescription pills, and some of those, Kazuaki now discovered, were simply sugar pills. Unfortunately, none of those were reserved for him. As Kazuaki watched Hitori ingest a copious amount of the little pink and white pills in handfuls, he was given capsules and tablets with a much more dangerous effect. 

“Try not to throw up. It’ll just make it hurt worse.” Hitori's voice was soft. Delicate and non-threatening, even as he was murdering Kazuaki, his voice still seemed soothing and gentle, a reassurance amidst the threat. This calm did not ease Kazuaki’s nerves, however. As he gagged once more, his intestines began to ache and his head throbbed harder than it had before, heat filling his esophagus as he attempted to regurgitate. Kazuaki just couldn’t follow orders, of course. He would gag and vomit solely because Hitori told him not to. Even if Hitori offered a solution, an easy and painless death, Kazuaki would drag it out so insistently. For pity. For attention. It was horrible how he would take it all back and change his mind when Hitori so kindly gave him the release he begged for. 

Hitori just _loathed_ that. 

“This isn’t funny! Please! Call an ambulance!” A request gone neglected, Hitori pressed the vomit-soaked scarf into the bag, twisting the handles to attempt to trap the smell.

Kazuaki was going to die, and his worst fears were going to be faced. Nobody would find him. Not until he rot through the floor, until the blood leaked through lesions at the bottom of his body and he so selfishly stunk up his entire apartment complex. It took 14 days before his school automatically withdrew him from classes, which might worry someone. But probably not enough to check on him, after so many absences before. His parents automatically paid his rent every month, as he didn’t have a job. They were separated but came together to make sure he had a place to live while he went to college. His landlord wouldn’t come, because of this. His parents knew his anxieties with phone calls, so they wouldn’t worry if he didn’t call for months at a time, and might even be relieved that he wouldn't have to call for extra funds other than their monthly deposits. 

Nobody knew he existed. So, nobody would notice or care when he died until his blood dripped into the living room of the person one floor below, or his next-door neighbor complained of the stench that had otherwise gone ignored because he was such a hermit, prone to hoarding and gathering garbage when he was too low on spoons to clean. That’s why he was such a prime potential victim. Nobody would care enough to fret or worry and check on him until Hitori Uzune found a use for his body. 

Hitori would come back later and tamper with his corpse. When rigor mortis set in and his body stiffened, Hitori would do what he could to alter his identity. 

Hitori took Kazuaki's purse. He rummaged through the contents, searching for anything of importance or use. The inside was messy, full of used tissues, sanitary pads Kazuaki so politely kept, breath mints, as he often forgot to brush his teeth, and a hair comb with broken bristles. Yellow hair, like golden wheat, strung around the base of all of the remaining bristles. A notebook he used twice and forgot. A pen, uncapped, that had bled all of its ink into the side of the bag and stained all of the contents.

“You said you’d go with me!” Kazuaki cried, holding his own throat, seemingly trying to choke the words out between his own hands. His skin was cold to the touch beneath, and his fingers were clammy against his skin. It felt all wrong. His body was fighting him, and he couldn't seem to force himself to move, despite all of this. Trapped in an uncooperative body, he could only choke and sob and squirm lifelessly on the carpet flooring. Sleep apnea be damned, he was starting to lose his breath, each inhale becoming harder to take into his lungs. 

“I said I would, but I won’t.”

“But, you said this world was awful!” This protest was nodded at solemnly, eyes of a lifeless, cold brown peering down into his own. Kazuaki sobbed once more as he wretched, trying to purge himself of the pills he had swallowed down. Hitori said it wouldn’t hurt when they died, and he trusted him. What a fool he was. This hurt more than anything he had experienced before in his life. 

“It is, but there are still things I have to do on it.” Hitori dug through the bottom of Kazuaki’s bag, a second layer of filth with barely anything of importance. At the very bottom, beneath hoards of trash and sticky-notes and ink-stained filth that would never see the light of day was Kazuaki's wallet. Inside, his ID and exactly 45 dollars. Pictures of him and his mom. Pictures of his cat back at his father's house. A photograph of him and Hitori, standing hand in hand, under a well-lit night downtown. His school ID. Contact information in case he lost his wallet, with his parents’ address and phone numbers. His apartment key was hidden in one of the pockets of his wallet, just so it would be less likely he lost it. 

Hitori removed the photo of himself and Kazuaki. In front of Kazuaki, he shredded it horribly slow. Torn in half, folded over. Torn in half again. Not stopping until it was an unrecognizable puzzle of black, blonde and brown, Hitori walked to the kitchen to dump it in the full disposal bin. Kazuaki hadn’t taken out the trash in nearly a week, boxes of take-out and rotting foodstuff tucked into the edges or falling onto the tile flooring.. 

How disgusting. His wallet was slid into Hitori’s back pocket. 

Hitori wrapped his red scarf tighter, brushing his hair back. He flattened out the back meticulously so he wouldn’t look like he had been laying on the floor, embracing a dying quail for a good hour or so before deciding to leave. He just didn’t have the patience for Kazuaki’s blubbering and sobbing and high coos of how beautiful the stars looked, or how beautiful Hitori looked when he was “dying,” or how much Kazuaki loved him and just couldn’t wait to see the stars with him. He couldn’t keep up the charade for long enough to let Kazuaki go peacefully, just because he couldn’t shut up long enough to die. Impatience didn't pay off, but he had what he came for. 

“The world is ugly, and it belongs to me and you alone.” 

The door opened. The door slammed shut, the hinges catching and lock scraping the doorframe. And with this, Hitori was gone. Kazuaki was not going to be saved, he was not going to survive, and he was going to die here laying on the floor covered in his own vomit. How embarrassing. How shameful and pitiful his death would be. Nobody would find him until it dried, and he would smell like the regurgitation of the bistro sandwich he shared with Hitori earlier in the day.

Realizing he was going to die, he screamed. He cried. He begged and prayed and searched for the will to live inside of himself, but he could not move, even with the will to save himself, the desperation doing nothing to call the police or keep him alive. He managed to drag himself onto his side, flip over and stop himself from drowning in his own bile, but he was going to die there. On that filthy carpet, on his belly. His intestines would seep through lesions in his stomach and flies would eat his eyeballs and lay eggs in his mouth. 

The flies would breed, the maggots would be born and it would recycle over and over again. He was going to be nothing but a shallow, bloated husk in a month's time. Hitori wouldn't even dispose of his body, as he didn't have to. Everyone knew Kazuaki would die on his own, hell, everyone probably _waited_ for the call. 

Kazuaki Nanaki, 22 year old male, found dead on his apartment floor. Suicide from overdose. He could almost hear the disinterested grunts, the channel change to morning cartoons, the news anchors bored as they explained that nobody stepped forward to claim his body. They would give every intimate, vile detail of his autopsy. They would share things he never wanted to share with anyone, they would spread around pictures of his corpse. His classmates would ask for a week off, despite nobody coming to visit him. They would ask for an automatic pass in the classes they shared with him. They would talk about him, finally, in the hallways, and with gentle words they would pretend they never attempted to drive him to a death like this. 

His professors would dump his files, expunge his information, and his parents would be left with a dead son and debt. "He was so _selfish,"_ they would agree. Maybe his parents would get back together--as they blamed him for their divorce, of course they'd get along with him gone.

A creak caught Kazuaki's ears as he dragged his fingers through the carpet. The door opened. The lock didn’t shut and latch, as it was sometimes faulty and would catch before closing completely. 

Hitori had come back. He should have known this was all just a prank. A trick. A play on his dependency. The pills were placebos. He was being dramatic. This wasn’t real. It was a hallucination, like many others he had before. A nightmare, perhaps.

He could hear the phone being dialed. It sounded a little different from his house dialtone. Maybe Hitori was using his cellphone for once. A soft, panicked voice calling for help. His address, and an explanation of what was going on. 

Of course Hitori loved him, and came back. He didn’t deserve his generosity, his mercy, at all. But he was so, so thankful that Hitori came back to save him. Just like he did so many times before. He was his savior, his reason for living. And he loved him so, so much.

Hitori’s hand brushed through his hair, lengthy fingers catching and pulling on the knots. He moved Kazuaki's bangs, shifted them, exposed his eyes and pale face. Kazuaki was pulled up to sit against the wall. He was surprisingly strong, but Kazuaki knew that in moments of adrenaline, one may get stronger. He heard it on the news once, or maybe he heard it in a video game. Either way, he was sitting up now, and Hitori was testing pressure against his chest, pulling open his shirt to pump on his skin. His hands were warm, unlike how they normally were-- their normally cool temperature often made him shiver, but his gaze focused on those lengthy, obscured hands that kept him from freezing.

Maybe Kazuaki was just cold.

With Hitori soothing him, holding his head in his hands, Kazuaki felt a wave of relief. He didn’t really want him to die. He really did love him, just a he promised he would for life and death. Those hands never seemed to stop wandering, jittery and shaking as he desperately touched Kazuaki's body. His wrist. His chest. His face.

“I knew you would come back for me,” Kazuaki mumbled, heaving for breath. “I love you.. I love you..” Sobbing, he tried to raise his hands to hold Hitori. But his hands were pressed down onto his lap, pinned for a moment. Hitori didn’t speak, but reached up once more, freeing his hands. He kept rocking Kazuaki, and it felt very nice. It would sometimes feel like he was being shaken, but he knew Hitori was just trying to keep him awake. He didn't need the prompt to not go towards the light. There was no light, but a fading filter along the edges of his peripheral view. His body felt so heavy, but his brain felt light, drifting out of his body as his eyes wandered, drifted to the ceiling and floors, but they could never look at Hitori for fear of what his facial expression may be. 

And finally, the red and blue lights flickered outside of his window. The sirens blared. While garbled, he couldn’t confuse the too-common sound of sirens howling, like a death toll's ring, for anything else.

He knew it would take time for them to get up the stairs, since their apartment didn’t have a working elevator. He knew it would take time for them to get through traffic and around that hill. So for now, he would lay against Hitori and cry. 

“I don’t want to die..” Kazuaki wept, lying against the wall.

“You’re not going to!” An unfamiliar voice flooded Kazuaki’s ears. And finally, “Hitori” came into focus. Hitori was really a blonde person with strange blue skin. Sharp gold eyes were planted on their face, and their chin's coloration faded to an off-pink. A fluffy blue robe sat on their lithe body, fallen open around their shoulders to expose pale collarbones that seemed much too defined, even in Kazuaki's blurry sights. 

“..Hitori..?” Kazuaki’s heart suddenly dropped, the name catching in his throat as he gagged once more, his vision fading. 

The room went dark. 

 

 

 

 

The sting of a tube up his nose, down the back of his throat. An ache in his guts, in his hands. The inability to lift his arms, which has been strapped to his sides. Everything smelled sanitized. Like fresh plastic, cloth, floor cleaner, and the putrid cotton stuffed in the top of prescription bottles. 

The Velcro around Kazuaki's wrists and upper arms were itchy, his skin sensitive and red against the binds. He was wishing he could scratch it, but both arms were locked in place. This was just too much. He wanted to cry, but his throat felt dry and ached terribly. Maybe he’d die of dehydration if he wasn’t careful, and if the IV dripping into him weren't dripping so rapidly right out of his view.

As Kazuaki adjusted, his hearing came back with a ring somewhere inside of his eardrums. A soft beep coincided with each pound of his heart, deep in his shallow bird’s chest as he came to. 

A nurse entered the room, noting that he was awake. She leaned out of the doorway and motioned at someone else outside, waving her hand to gesture for someone to come in. It was probably just another nurse, but someone else pushed past her, entering the room stubbornly. The person in the blue robe, still blurry in Kazuaki’s peripheral view, had moved to foot of his bed. Their blonde hair swished over their shoulder in a loose tie, and their blue bunny slippers skid across the floor. 

“He’s up. Can I go home now?” Their voice was high and feminine, and sounded very high-maintenance just from the tone they were using. After a long wait, they repeated their question in a much more annoyed tone. The nurse, clad in white and red, stepped into the room and approached Kazuaki’s bed, seemingly avoiding the guest.

“Not yet, his family hasn’t returned our calls.. Mr. Nishikikouji, what is his relation to you, again?” The nurse drew closer to the bed, checking his stats. She removed the velcro straps from his upper arms, but not his wrists, her fingers grazing over the red lines on his freckly, scarred skin, marked with horizontal and vertical lines that were never deep enough to do much damage, but too deep to properly fade. “Don’t worry,” She reassured Kazuaki. “This is just to make sure you don’t rip your IVs out.” 

Mr. Nishikikouji sounded exasperated. “I’m his neighbor. I’ve only seen him once or twice in the apartment complex.” 

“I don’t think you can leave yet. We’re probably going to have to get a statement for the police. We’re going to try to get a hold of his parents, still.. But only family can stay in the room, so you’ll have to go back out to the waiting room.” The nurse pulled away, and scribbled something on her clipboard. She seemed bothered by the fact that she was having such trouble contacting Kazuaki’s parents, brows knitting together. 

“They’re not picking up?” Approaching the edge of the bed, Tohri waved his hand in front of Kazuaki’s face, trying to get his attention. Kazuaki’s dull grey eyes followed his hands, then finally focused on Mr. Nishikikouji’s face. The mint-colored face mask had been peeled off, but left little patches along his hairline, revealing those same peering gold eyes, seemingly brimming with judgement and his pale, near-perfect skin. “I’m Tohri Nishikikouji, your lord and savior. Are you okay?”

Tohri Nishikikouji was a tall man. With blonde, wavy hair in mismatched gold and red waves around his broad, masculine shoulders, he simply stared through Kazuaki. His face was soft and pale, his cheek bones high and lips pursed and pink.

Kazuaki wheezily nodded, eyes shutting as he leaned back into the thin, crinkling pillows that made his neck sweat, and the soft curls of his hair stick to his back and shoulders. His kidneys hurt, or maybe it was a stress-ulcer. He was sure that wasn’t normal, but couldn't find it in himself to speak just quite yet. 

“We’re going to do a psychiatric evaluation when he’s awake and we can get our head psyche in, this afternoon. We’re going to hold him for at least 72 hours though. Standard procedure.”

“That’s none of my business,” Tohri insisted, waving the nurse off. “Confidentiality and all that. How long until I can go home? I have work in an hour and I never got to finish my bath.” 

The nurse looked back down at her clipboard again, then motioned out of the door. “We’ll get the police in here to talk to him in about an hour, and I’ll call to get the head of psyche in early. You have to stay there until then.” 

Tohri groaned in frustration, stamping his slippers on the tile floor. They didn't make a noise, rather nearly tripped him. “Can I leave my number and go? I’m a teacher! I have to get a substitute and a bunch of other stuff... Come on!” 

“We have to get your statement, but.. Um, please step outside.” Tohri obliged, scuttling outside into the waiting room in his robe while he was guided along by the nurse. “We’ll try to work something out, but it’s important you tell us what happened.”

After a long explanation of what happened, Tohri was set free several hours late for class. It looked like he would miss his robotic engineering class today. He just got the job, it was ridiculous that he’d already miss a teaching session! He had explained that he was simply taking a shower and grooming for the next day when he heard someone next door crying and screaming, and found Kazuaki overdosing on the floor. That was all.

 

Several weeks passed without Tohri thinking much about what happened. The apartment complex was quiet, as normal. He knew Kazuaki lived next door, but.. He never made enough noise to be a bother, so it wasn’t really something he worried about. Kazuaki was probably getting treatment and feeling better, so he dismissed it in the back of his mind for the time being. 

 

On a Friday night, after a long day at work, Tohri relaxed at home. He finally got a long bath to make up for the stressful week. Working at St. Pigeonations was exhausting, and while he fared alright with children, a classroom of 25 was a bit much to deal with. If he wasn't careful, his age lines and wrinkles would get worse. Relaxing into his bathtub, he splayed his arms out, wetting his razor so he could begin the arduous task of shaving his legs. 

He couldn’t believe this is what his life had come to. He felt like a superhero, in part. Teaching young birds how to build death rays akin to those of the optics divisions he used to work in by day, and saving sad quails by night! The candles lit on the edges of his tub smelled like sugar cookies, relaxing the pheasant that sunk into the tub. His hair wet around his shoulders as he lowered in. This peace and quiet was soon interrupted, though. His doorball rang and startled him out of the tub, Tohri only shaving a single strip of blonde, soft hair from his calf. 

Dumping the razor and pulling his wet hair back in a bun, Tohri wrapped a towel around his shoulders and grabbed his robe off of the hanger. Pulling it on and tying it tight around his cinched waist, Tohri scrambled for the door, leaving the candles lit and water running. Opening the door, he was met with a frail, blonde boy that was much smaller than him. As a towering pheasant, he stood at 6'7", so this was incredibly common.

In Kazuaki’s arms, he held a fresh bouquet of flowers, tucked into pink wrapping paper and a yellow ribbon, and a teddy bear holding a plush heart, exclaiming “Get well soon!” Tied around his wrist, a white band with his information and a half-deflated pink, heart-shaped balloon limply hovering overhead, bumping periodically against the ceiling. This balloon echoed the bear’s sentiment. The blonde’s eyes trailed from the carpet up Tohri’s legs, slowly tracking up his face. 

Kazuaki was soft in nearly all manners of the word. A rounded, soft quail boy with bouncing, curly hair. Soft, wide cheeks with faded freckles. With wide, owlish grey-brown eyes and button nose, his face was marked by pale lips that seemed to be naturally of a dead-nude shade. Kazuaki's throat was laced with small scars in rows of five, sliding from the back of his neck to his shallow Adam's apple. These scars were nearly invisible, but Tohri was staring him down hard enough to get every detail. While he was not particularly "short", his oversized clothes seemed to consume him, making him seem much smaller than he actually was. The slouch of his shoulders also didn't help in emphasizing his height.

“Oh, um..” Kazuaki started, fumbling with his hands, though this nearly made him drop the contents held in his arms. Around his fingers were many sparkly band-aids, mostly centered around his joints. Some were falling off, which he hurriedly pressed back on. Shifting the large bear in his arms, Kazuaki adjusted his weight onto his right leg, wobbling some side to side. “My mom just dropped me off back here and.. She told me to thank you..” His voice seemed strained, tight in his hoarse throat. His eyes would dart away from Tohri’s hurriedly, looking everywhere but his face. Kazuaki’s eyes sparked with a moment of brief realization as he glimpsed around Tohri. The clock on the opposite wall displayed that it was nearly 10pm. It was very late for him to be dropped off.

“Oh, gosh, it’s late--I’m so sorry, I didn’t.. mean to..” Kazuaki apologized, bringing his banded hand up to his mouth. Biting at the knuckle of his index finger, he stepped back a few times, giving clearance for the other to move. The band-aid came off between his teeth, revealing scabbed knuckles. The bandage dropped to the floor from between his teeth, and he continued to uneasily gnaw at his skin. “I didn’t mean to bother you… Um..” 

“No, no.” Tohri flapped his wrist, stepping back to free the doorway, moving sideways to clear the way. “Come inside, sit on the couch or something. I’ll be right back.” Tohri returned to the bathroom to blow out his candles and turn off the water, slip on some underwear, and drop off his towel, then coming back to Kazuaki. The quail had settled himself on Tohri’s couch, finding it hard to sit with all of the pillows thrown on it. He stacked each of the pillows carefully on the floor, setting his bear and tiny backpack and flowers on the couch. 

“So, um.. Hi.” Kazuaki started, leaning into the soft couch. Tohri pulled up his recliner from the other side, sitting on it and staring Kazuaki in the face. This was mildly intimidating. Tohri held his robe closed around his waist, one leg crossed over the other.

“How are you feeling?” 

“..Okay, I guess. I’m sorry we didn’t meet on better.. circumstances..” His voice seemed so soft. It was hard to hear. Tohri sat up, motioning at Kazuaki. The blonde slumped in at himself, keeping his arms curled around his sides. His kidneys still hurt and he still had stomach pains, his guts violently protesting sometimes when he made certain movements.

“I probably should’ve visited.” Tohri mused, scratching his own cheek. He blinked at Kazuaki, leaning down and resting his chin on his knuckles. “We’re just lucky I was awake when it happened. Are you feeling better?” It was a good idea to not focus on his vanity and self-absorption for now. He would gladly set it aside for the time being, although it was very hard to do so.

“Mm..n.. N.. Not really.” Kazuaki was starting to feel uneasy with complaining. After being scolded by.. _Him,_ for complaining, for being sad, for being “ungrateful” for his life, he had immediately felt unsure if it would be safe to complain, or if it was acceptable, especially around strangers. “But.. that’s okay.. They wouldn't have let you visit, you're not family..” This was a mild understanding, as Tohri intended to mean introducing himself before the attempt on his life.

“So, your family did pick up? I gave them my number if you needed a ride back home.” Tohri glimpsed at the clock. It was late, but not too late. He then turned back to watch Kazuaki, observing as he played with his fingers and the hem of his jacket. His clothes had been washed and returned to him, but it was the same outfit he wore on that unfortunate day.

“My mom did come by to visit and pick me up after they called for a week or so, but uh.. It took me a few days to talk to them, and they kept me in the ward until they cleared me.. But it’s okay, I spent some time talking to people..” Kazuaki fidgeted some, sitting back against the cushy couch. He picked up a pillow from the floor, holding it in his lap to pick at. “They had a lot of people like me. I still..” No. He caught himself before he complained. That’s what made Hi.. Him, do this. Kazuaki picked at the cover of the couch pillow, twisting the frayed ends of the lining in his fingers. He would occasionally look at Tohri’s eyes, but it would make him glimpse away quicker. It was very quiet. “..Thank you..”

“You’re welcome.” Tohri mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. This seemed to make Kazuaki anxious. He trembled some at this new posture. Noticing this, Tohri lowered his arms, trying to seem more inviting. “...I’m your neighbor. I would have found you either way.” This also made Kazuaki feel guilty. He brought his thumb up to his lips, biting at the skin around his nails, blood staining the edges of his lips as he pried a hangnail away.

“I’m sorry.. I didn’t.. really, want to die, I’m sorry..” He almost seemed on the verge of tears. This sure wasn’t making him feel any better.

“It sure didn’t seem that way.” Tohri sighed. He stood up to enter the kitchen, getting a box of tissues. He handed them to Kazuaki, then seated himself again on the opposite side, across from the couch. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

Kazuaki blew his nose, then wiping away tears trying to escape the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t want to die, I’m sorry, I didn’t-- I keep apologizing, I’m sorry--”

“It’s--It’s fine.” Tohri was a little startled by this. He cleared his throat, motioning at Kazuaki. “If you ever need me, I’m next door. I’m not a therapist or anything, but.. I’m here when I’m not at work.” 

“Th.. That’s why I’m here, actually, um..” Kazuaki twisted the now-wet tissue between his fingers. He didn’t know where to set it, and felt too anxious to walk to the visible trashcan in the kitchen to his right. “I’m locked out of my apartment until Wednesday.. The landlord won’t.. give me a new key until I pay them, and then it takes two days to make..” 

“Do you not have the money for it? What happened to your key?” Tohri blinked owlishly at Kazuaki, playing with his rings. “Your apartment wasn’t locked, I noticed, but--”

“W-well, I..” Kazuaki’s thoughts flashed back. A blurry memory of _His_ hands, rummaging through his purse. He took his wallet, and his keys. His scarf. Kazuaki’s fingers trailed up to his neck--now bare, cold. He clenched his fingers against his skin, hands now shaking, trembling and unsure fingertips sliding along the edges of his Adam's apple. His whole body seemed to tremble as he started to weep, hot tears wetting his blonde eyelashes. His vision obscured as he started to cry. “I lost it,” He lied. But he didn’t want Tohri to know what really happened. Barely holding back tears, he covered his face with his hands.

Tohri stood up, getting the trash bin from his kitchen. He set it next to Kazuaki, motioning at it for disposal of tissues. “It’s fine to cry. I didn’t mean you.. Had to stop. It’s okay. Do you have the money for it?” This felt awkward. Tohri didn’t really know how to deal with someone who was feeling so delicate at the moment. 

“I have to call my dad, and.. He’ll pay for it in a few days when he gets his paycheck, b-but..” But. It seemed like Tohri was stuck with him.

“Do you have anywhere to go? Any friends?” This made Kazuaki go quiet. His eyes seemed such a soft grey when he looked up, seemingly hopeless. Tohri was going to take that as a “no.” He shook his head, standing up to get his purse. “I’ll pay for it. But you can stay on my couch until the landlord makes the key.” 

“N-no! No.. You can’t.. do that..” Kazuaki’s words were strained. He felt terrible, asking for something from the stranger that saved his life. “You don’t even know me, y..” 

“It’s fine. I just got a new job and friends crash on my couch all the time. The key is fifty-five dollars, right? I lost my key when I first moved in, but I’m not sure.” Tohri stood and seated himself on the other side of the couch, separated from the quail by a wall of “get well soon” gifts. 

“Yeah.. You really don’t have to..” Though, hanging out on his couch was the alternative. Tohri moved the bear a bit, Handing Kazuaki 60 dollars. 5 dollars extra for lunch or bus fare or something might help. Kazuaki started weeping again, taking the money to shove into his coat pocket. He stood up and sniffled, walking to the other side of the couch.

Taking Tohri in an embrace, he buried himself in the other’s shoulder. The robe was wonderful at absorbing tears and felt very comfortable to cry into. Tohri pat his head, ushering him onto his knees so he could lay against him and cry. Kazuaki rested his head against the other’s chest, keeping his arms folded on Tohri’s lap as he sobbed, letting it all out. “Thank you..” He cried, whimpering. 

Tohri brushed Kazuaki’s hair back, letting the curls bunch up between his long, long fingers. The massive blonde fluff felt soft to the touch and bounced back down to the sides of Kazuaki’s head when released, which was strangely satisfying. When Kazuaki was all cried out, he sniveled against Tohri’s chest, wiping his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tohri offered. “I’ll move your belongings and set up the couch so you can sleep. It is pretty late.” Kazuaki wasn’t sure about the first half, but sleeping sounded nice. While he had spent the last few days sleeping, it always seemed like a nice escape. Sleep was peaceful, and easy to indulge in. The quail removed himself from Tohri’s lap, backing up and sitting on the floor. Tohri stepped around him, picking up the gifts to set on the kitchen counter that separated the living room and kitchen. This cleared up the couch. 

“I’m not.. sure if I’m ready to talk about it..” Kazuaki mumbled, watching as Tohri cleaned up.

“That’s fine. Come choose a blanket from my room and a pillow.” Tohri offered his hand to Kazuaki. He really wasn’t sure how old the other was, and he was sure he wasn’t a child, but this was a rather infantilizing move. 

“There are plenty of pillows on the couch,” Kazuaki refused the hand. While he did appreciate touch, he didn’t feel quite so comfortable with Tohri yet. “And I’m wearing a lot of clothes..” 

“I have pajamas, though. And you can borrow some clothes for a few days.” That sounded nice, at least. But Kazuaki noted something.

“You’re a lot thinner than me.. And taller..” It was hard to miss. He still watched Tohri and followed him to his room, though. There was one closet on the right side of the hallway, and two rooms to the right--the bathroom and the bedroom. 

“Well, yes, but I have bought clothes for others. They’re probably still packaged, but we’ll see if it fits.” Entering the bedroom, it wasn’t too untidy. Tohri’s vanity was a mess, as was his bed. His closet was chock-full and his dressers were overflowing. Kazuaki seemed a little overwhelmed, but stepped up to the closet. Tohri pulled open the closet to pull a few unopened shopping bags of large-sized clothing out, dumping it on his bed. “There! You’re welcome--!” Ah. The sudden realization that he didn’t even know his neighbor’s name.

He’d ask later. Tohri got his own pajamas, ignoring that he hadn’t even completed his bath, heading out and into the bathroom. “Find what you want to wear. I’m going to wash my hair and then change. Take whatever pillow you want and head into the living room when you’re ready.” Waving off, Tohri retreated to clean up.

Kazuaki immediately felt very guilty for crying on his neighbor. He rummaged through the bags, eyes stinging some as he retrieved a baggy blue long-sleeved shirt, and black pajama pants patterned with stars. Shutting the door, despite Tohri being in the other room, he changed into the pajamas. He then set himself on Tohri’s bed.

The bed was very comfortable. It was soft and cushioned well, with a thick comforter and many plush pillows. Kazuaki crawled to the top of the bed, testing each pillow. They were all very nice, and would be nice to sleep on.. He laid his head on each pillow, nestling into it. On Tohri’s bedside table, there was a picture of the pheasant, and two strangers. This version of Tohri seemed much younger, and in the photograph, he was being embraced by a much older man with grey-blue hair and squished against a boy with curly, soft brown hair. 

Kazuaki wondered who they were.

It smelled like perfume, and freshly-washed. The sheets were nice and warm, but too warm for him to sleep under in his pajamas. He wondered when the last time Tohri washed the sheets, but didn’t really care. As someone who often slept on the floor because he didn’t have the motivation to clean off the bed, it was an upgrade. The hospital beds were much less comfortable, too, and he fretted frequently over the last time the psychiatric ward washed their sheets properly. Tohri allowing him to sleep on the couch was more than he could ask for, but he felt very guilty for being there in the first place. He was made to feel guilty for wanting to die and called selfish and ungrateful, but every moment he was alive he felt like a burden. It just wasn’t fair.

Leaning his head into the pillow, he started to cry again. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep in the wet pillow, taking up about half of Tohri’s bed. 

When Tohri was finished washing his hair and cleaning himself, he went out to the living room in his pajamas. Kazuaki wasn’t there, so he took his key and checked the hallway. Did he go out? Did he talk to his landlord? It looked like he wasn’t there..

Hopefully he was alright. But Tohri headed inside and decided maybe going to bed was for the best. He did leave his front door propped open, just in case Kazuaki returned. Going back to his bedroom, he was surprised at the blonde curled up in the fetal position, face buried in his pillow. Tohri shut and locked the front door, turning off lights behind him. 

He pulled the blanket over Kazuaki, which the smaller man kicked off. “It’s too warm…” He complained, before realizing who he was whining at. He sat up slowly, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.. Um.. I’ll move..”

“It’s fine. I can sleep on the couch.” Complaining at Kazuaki wouldn’t make it any better. Tohri turned to to head outside, but Kazuaki stopped him:

“Nn.. Please don’t leave..” Well. He wasn’t going to say no. Tohri nodded and gestured for Kazuaki to turn on his bedside light, which he did. He then flipped off the overhead light and headed to the other side of the bed, crawling underneath the sheets. 

“Do you want to talk?” Tohri asked insistently, turning to Kazuaki. Kazuaki shook his head “no”, but offered a hand finally. He wouldn’t mind holding Tohri’s hand now, as long as he wasn’t being lead around like a child. He was not a child. He was just depressed, but that didn’t mean that he had to be treated as any less than an adult. 

“I forgot, um.. I’m Kazuaki Nanaki… And..” He couldn’t say “his friends,” as he didn’t have any. And he couldn’t bring it out of himself to speak _His_ name. He couldn’t say his parents, because he didn’t talk to them except for when he needed money. “..People call me Kazuaki-kun.. And sometimes Kazoo, if they don’t want to say my whole name.. So..”

“Kazuaki is a wonderful name,” Tohri squeezed the other’s hand. “One to be proud of! My name is Tohri Nishikikouji. It is a terrible offense and misdeed to misspeak one’s name, so I will call you Kazuaki Nanaki in full most times.” 

“Oh.. Um, Thank you.. And thank you for letting me stay, my lord and savior, Tohri Nishikikouji..” That sounded very uncomfortable when recycled back to Tohri, though in most circumstances he would be flattered to have someone regard him so highly. 

“You heard that? You seemed pretty out of it, so.” Tohri strained laughter between a fake grin, squeezing his hand again. 

“I did. I’ll go to the landlord in the morning, I promise you won’t have to do this with me every night..” Kazuaki shut his eyes, pulling his hand away from Tohri’s. He tucked it against himself and buried his head in his hands, soon falling asleep without much warning. He was very tired, after all of the effort existing took. Tohri was left to watch him, waiting for sleep as well. It just seemed like it wasn’t going to come. 

When morning came, Tohri was still exhausted. He hadn’t managed to sleep well through the night, but when he awoke from a brief nap, Kazuaki was still asleep. It was nearly 1pm, and he hadn’t budged at all. Curled in a tight ball, Kazuaki had turned away from Tohri in the night, edging closer and closet to the side of the bed in an attempt to get away from the other person in the bed. For some reason, Tohri expected he would be someone to cling in their sleep, but it seemed that Kazuaki was the opposite.

Tohri shook Kazuaki’s shoulder, but the quail didn’t wake up immediately. He slowly slid his hand into the other’s, in an attempt to entwine their fingers and hold hands. Kazuaki squeezed his hands tiredly before murmuring something soft. “Hit…" The worst faded into a mumble. "Five more minutes..” Hit? Tohri checked his phone on the other bedside table closest to him. He hadn’t used an alarm, so he couldn’t add another five minutes. 

The unfamiliar voice spoke again. “I’ll make breakfast.” This immediately brought Kazuaki back to reality. He sat up, immediately sweating. 

It wasn’t _Him._ It was someone else. Kazuaki immediately felt very guilty for thinking it was _Him._ He didn’t deserve someone so kind. He never deserved _Him._ Kazuaki’s shaky voice slowly slurred out a half-intelligible response: “P-please and thank you.” 

“No problem.” Tohri mumbled, smoothing out Kazuaki’s hair with a soft pat. He then left for the kitchen while Kazuaki sorted through his anxiety attack. 

He had dreamt of _Him,_ of their life, of how he thought things would’ve gone. Of a happy life. Of a happy death, where they would be in the stars together. He couldn’t believe he mistook Tohri’s hand for _His._ It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve to dream of _Him._

 

When he finally got a grip and his heart stopped pounding, he found Tohri placed a tray on his lap. On it was toast, yogurt, a banana and a couple strawberries. Tohri wasn’t really sure what he liked, so he just guessed. Tohri still wasn’t exactly sure how to handle Kazuaki, but he would just treat him like anyone else.

“Are you alright?” He finally asked, seating himself next to Kazuaki. He had a packet of peach yogurt, which he stirred with his spoon quietly. 

“Um..” No. Not at all. But he wouldn’t say that, lest Tohri hate him for complaining. He glimpsed down at the tray, then motioned at it. “Yes.. Is this for me?” 

“Yeah. I didn’t know what you liked, and I’m sure you’re sick of hospital food.” 

Kazuaki didn’t have the heart to tell him this was his exact breakfast every day for the last week or so. The breakfast tray looked the same and everything. He set the tray to the side, holding the strawberries carefully. He’d eat those, but he didn’t want to look at the plastic platter. 

“So.. Tell me about you?” This was awkward. Kazuaki was still a stranger and all. At least Tohri offered some opportunity to speak about himself without feeling guilty. 

“Um.. I just turned 22 this year.. I don’t have a job, and I was supposed to graduate college two years ago…” Kazuaki nibbled the edge of a strawberry. He noticed it stained his hands and fingertips. Maybe he’d have to change his band-aids soon. 

“What do you like to do?” What a loaded question. Tohri thought he could talk a little about himself too. “I’m a robotics teacher, I just started working in St. Pigeonations a few months ago.”

The name of the academy sounded familiar to Kazuaki, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before. He finished a strawberry, pondering. “..I’m not sure..” He used to like writing a lot, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to pursue his current degree, either.. 

“Do you have any hobbies?” This was hard to discuss. Kazuaki really wasn’t giving any leeway, and it really gave insight to what he thought about himself..

“Well.. I like video games.. I play a lot of them..” Kazuaki nodded thoughtfully. He hadn’t claimed any of his daily rewards on his phone games for over a week, and all of his digital pet games were probably going to make him feel incredibly guilty for abandonment when he could tend to them again.. 

“Anything else? Or something you used to like to do?” That was the keyword. Kazuaki perked up some, watching Tohri stir his yogurt thoughtfully.

“I used to like writing, when I was younger.. I wrote Haikus when I was a kid, but over the last few years.. I just don’t enjoy it anymore.. I’m burnt out.” How sad. Tohri had seen this a lot over his years, and it was unfortunate to see joy ripped out of someone’s life. “There’s too much pressure to succeed. You’re either the world’s best author or not one at all.” Another strawberry. This one tasted too sour, so he set it back on the mock-hospital tray. “I wish I was just a feral bird, like my ancestors.. Where I didn’t have to worry about this kind of stuff.”

Tohri wasn’t sure how to respond. He sat down his yogurt and adjusted to turn to Kazuaki, observing him as he spoke. 

“Does that make me ungrateful?” The words hit hard. Kazuaki squished a strawberry between his fingertips, eyes soft again. “Does it mean I’m bad? I want life to be simpler, but I don’t want to give up the leisures that this life gives me..” 

Tohri was really starting to see some of his reasoning in why he would want to die, though he insisted he didn’t. This was such a negative, sad world view. “It’s not ungrateful,” Tohri started, getting a tissue. He moved to wipe off Kazuaki’s red-stained hands, but the tissue was plucked out of his fingers. Kazuaki wiped his own hands, not allowing himself to be treated as a child that couldn’t wipe up his own messes.. “But it is unrealistic. This is the life we have now, but what you’re saying is unfortunately true.” 

Kazuaki nodded. “I thought about it a lot, but.. maybe in my next life, I’d never hatch from my egg.. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. But I’m stuck here, now, and can’t even die right.” No, that came out wrong. He clenched his fists, glancing away from Tohri. He didn’t want to be seen as pitiful. As ungrateful. As desperate for death. That’s what made _Him_ leave. 

“I wanted to be in the stars. That’s all.” But not alone. Kazuaki finished his final strawberries, the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. “..Um, I’m sorry.. So, tell me about you.. Do you enjoy robotics?”

Tohri was stunned into silence for once. But at the question, he cleared his throat, suddenly dissolving into a self-absorbed speech. “I, Tohri Nishikikouji, used to be the head researcher in the Optics Lab division in Takaba Labs, and I was the best at creating weaponry and miscellaneous tools! I was a top engineer and inventor!” He seemed so proud. He puffed himself up to make his body seem much larger than he actually was, which was mildly intimidating to Kazuaki. 

“When worse came to worst and my funding was redirected to another department, I quit! I deserved MUCH better than the lousy faculty and low funding and lack of interest!” Kazuaki seemed enamored at these words. It seemed like Tohri was slighted and cast aside, but recovered with more confidence than he had before. “So I went back to school, and now I am a teacher! I can pass on my expertise and skill on to future generations, so that one day, they may exclaim ever so proudly that they were my student!” 

“Fascinating.” Kazuaki’s word was soft-spoken, and his eyes seemed so much lighter. He seemed to be almost literally starry-eyed, though maybe that was just the lighting.. 

“I LOVE robotics, and I ADORE engineering, and I BASK in the praise that comes from it!” Tohri crowed, obviously getting excited by finally talking about himself. 

“Why did you lose funding at your old job?” 

“Turn your head approximately ninety degrees clockwise!” In that approximate location lay the photo that Kazuaki had looked at before. It was well-maintained for being a reminder of Tohri’s loss. “The man there! Isa Souma! He stole my limelight and effectively my funding by pretending to be more interesting than me!” 

“He looks very nice..” Kazuaki commented, obviously mistaking Ryuuji for the young Isa Souma. Tohri nearly climbed over Kazuaki to get the frame, rattling it about. He pointed his long-nailed index finger at Isa’s face. 

“No! It is him! The true wolf in sheep’s skin!” He was getting too worked up. Kazuaki was starting to get nervous with Tohri so excitable. He took Tohri’s wrist, lowering the frame to his lap. 

“S.. So, How old are you? You seem young to be a teacher..” 

“A true gentleman never reveals his age!” Tohri squawked indignantly, but he was very flattered to be told he looked young. “But I will tell you, since you told me yours! I am 27 years old, as of January fourth!” That was only a few days ago. Kazuaki smiled fondly, wringing his hands. Birthdays were nice.. He was just sad he missed Tohri’s birthday, and that he would’ve ruined the month of Tohri’s birthday with something like his death.. Not that it would have much effect after a few years, he was sure everyone would either forget or stop caring. Maybe he would have been found in February, if he had died, rendering this concern useless and irrelevant in his brain. 

“Did you get anything nice for your birthday?” This was a topic Kazuaki liked. It wasn’t sad, and it distracted him from his bad he still felt. 

“I did! My parents visited, and my siblings sent me a birthday card.” How nice. Kazuaki pulled another bandaid off, revealing a very bloodied, raw joint. It hurt for it to be exposed to air, but it might heal faster now. 

“You have siblings..? I’m an only child.. Are your parents still together?” Casual conversation was pleasant. Kazuaki was already debating getting Tohri a belated birthday card. He knew he probably wouldn’t, since he didn’t have the energy to go out and felt very anxious, like everyone would know..

“Yes! An older brother and sister. And my parents are still together, of course.” Kazuaki was starting to get a bit more distracted by his thoughts, but was still listening. What colors did Tohri like? He had only ever seen Tohri in bathrobes and half-dressed.. His bathrobe was light blue, so maybe he’d like a mint-blue card. What if they only had royal blue? Would Tohri be disappointed?

“My parents have been divorced since I was 14..” Kazuaki responded. “I haven’t talked to them very often since I started college..” What if someone laughed at him? What if a nurse noticed him at the pharmacy while getting his card? What if his therapist found him and got angry because he didn’t go to his appointments?

“What are you in college for?” This conversation seemed much more normal. He’d have to send Kazuaki to their landlord sometime soon, though.

“Literature.” What if _He_ was at the pharmacy?

Kazuaki’s heart sunk in his chest. His head suddenly hurt. Thinking of seeing him--of somehow encountering him in this small town.

It was terrifying. What would _He_ do? Would _He_ be angry that Kazuaki didn’t die? _He_ must know by now. There was no funeral service. Maybe _He_ was waiting for the obituary, for the discovery of his body… For something. 

He was afraid. He had survived, but what kind of life would this be now?


	2. Anatomy of a Coward

Tohri waved his hand in front of Kazuaki’s face. The shadow was like that of a hawk, startling the small quail into bouncing upwards, nearly lurching a foot in the air before cowering back against the headboard. His heart had begun to pound as his attention was summoned once more. It looked like he got sidetracked and lost in his own thoughts, so impolitely ignoring Tohri’s spiel. 

“Yes… Sorry, um, I was thinking..” Kazuaki flapped his wrists, drawing his hands back into his sleeves. He curled his arms against his chest, seemingly trying to compact himself into the smallest version of himself possible.

“I said, what do you want to do?” Another loaded question. Tohri sounded impatient, though that wasn’t his intention. “If literature is your major, what do you intend to do with it?”

“Well..” Kazuaki paused again, finding his face hot as he dragged his hands up to his cheeks. Hands barely peeking out of his sleeves, he curled his fingers into his palm. His fingertips touched his too-warm skin, and he could feel his heart throbbing from inside of his borrowed shirt. The lack of his scarf to stim on was a new feeling, and one hard to cope with. Maybe he should get a new one, but.. after losing the last one, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. “I like writing, but.. I can’t be an author.. I’m no good at numbers, so I’d be a bad historian..” 

“Maybe you could do book reviews?” Tohri interrupted. He fell quiet as Kazuaki’s gaze slowly drifted up to his face, his expression thoughtful but unsure. The quail would periodically lick at the corners of his lip, teeth edging the soft skin.

“I don’t want to make enemies… And nobody would read it if all of my reviews were ten out of ten..” Kazuaki brought his index finger to his mouth, chewing at the scabs forming along his knuckles. They tasted metallic, and never seemed to heal fast enough to prevent any harm.

Tohri reached up to take Kazuaki’s hands in order to interrupt the blatant self-harming stim, but was met with resistance. Kazuaki shoved the prying hands away, making the pheasant lower them back down into his own lap. This was a little rude, but someone was invading his personal space. In this state of thoughtfulness, he didn’t seem to regret or feel bad about resisting a touch he didn’t enjoy. Tohri respected this and cleared his throat, trying to pull Kazuaki’s attention back in.

“How do you feel about kids?” Tohri asked abruptly, trying not to wince as Kazuaki drew blood. The quail winced as he noticed hot red dripping down his fingers, steely fluid bitter on his tongue. He didn’t want to ruin Tohri’s bed or sheets, so he removed a pink bandage from his thumb, curling it around his new injury. It wouldn’t stick, though. Instead, he held pressure against the bandage until it stopped bleeding.

“I like kids, but.. they make me nervous..” His thoughts immediately went to _His_ children. All nine of them. Kazuaki was never any good at tending to them, especially the younger ones. Nageki didn’t particularly like him, either. So all in all, even if he liked children.. He didn’t know how well he would be received if he worked with them. “And.. After everything, I don’t really want kids of my own..”

Hoppe always seemed to like him. She was very sweet, and would sometimes try to read books to him much lower than his reading level. But the older children were often so unintentionally cruel, they would drain him of any and all energy he had. Kanta would torment him daily, and Nageki would give him a look that would potentially singe the tips of his hair if concentrated, sometimes. Momo would sometimes invite him to play, but grow frustrated when he wasn’t as childish or excited to play house as she anticipated. He just didn’t have the imagination for it, it seemed.. He would be such a disappointing father. It was probably for the best he never wanted to be one. 

“I’m the same way.” Tohri nodded, raising his hand to scratch at his own chin. He leaned over the side of the bed, getting a towel from the edge that he had discarded there after a shower, several days before. “How about older kids?” Kazuaki’s mind immediately flickered back to Nageki. To Kanta. 

“I guess.. They tend to pick on me.., though..” Kazuaki took the towel as it was offered. He removed the one bandage, covering his injury with the soft cloth. 

“How about a teacher? If you have enough credits and work hard, you can change majors and graduate in a year or two. St. Pigeonation’s old literacy and writing teacher might retire soon, so..” That seemed.. Alright. Kazuaki still wasn’t really sure what he wanted to do, but being a teacher was.. something. It was better than being unsure and never achieving anything, like he feared before. Actually doing something in his life, and doing something for others, might be a good idea. However, he wasn’t sure if it was something he wanted to pursue. 

“..I’ll think about it.. I have a lot of extra credits, but.. Never completed the necessary courses I need.. I was really bad at math, so I h..”

He had a tutor. Past tense. He was one math credit away, and two required courses away from his degree.. He started trembling again, more violently this time. His chest felt tight.

Tohri cleared his throat, trying to draw him back from a panic attack. “I can help with any courses you may need, you know. I’m an engineer, so--”

“No.” Kazuaki’s voice seemed strained. He stared down at his hands, clenching the soft towel between his fingertips. He had begun to pull the threads out, discarding them to the sides. If Tohri became his tutor, he would get sick of him twice as fast. He would get more impatient, more angry, until he decided he didn’t want him anymore. And then, he would kill him. “I.. don’t need any help, I can pass by myself.. What do I have to do to be a teacher?”

Just like Him.

 

 

The morning followed as a long, step-by-step guide of how to change his major. How to become a teacher. How to follow the steps necessary to start working in schools, to get the clearances necessary to work with children. 

It sure seemed like a lot of work. It overwhelmed him to even think about it. But this stranger, his lord and savior Tohri Nishikikouji, offered to invest his time and efforts in him. However, Kazuaki felt incredibly on edge. The last time someone offered such help, and he opened up to them--

He was still trembling. He could feel it, this time, and his fingers couldn’t seem to keep a grip. When Kazuaki’s thoughts finally settled and he came to, he was seated on Tohri’s couch, the landlord sitting across from him. He forgot what he was doing, time lapsing into a fog. New gauze, covered by soft white bandages that crawled up his arms, covered his fingers and hands. He couldn’t remember how he got there, and couldn’t remember changing them out. 

“Kazuaki,” Tohri coughed, nudging his shoulder gently. The quail glimpsed back, then rummaged through his jacket, which has somehow found its way back around him. Across from him, the landlord stood, showing off their threatening stature. He couldn’t remember what he was doing, but he knew that he had money in the pocket. This was normally all that the landlord would check in for.

He noticed his clothes had been changed when he wasn’t paying attention. His new outfit was soft blue leggings, patterned with stars, and a v-neck black shirt that seemed to veil his small body. 

Staring back up at the landlord, Kazuaki stood reluctantly. 

Kazuaki came roughly to the landlord’s chest. They were huge, and incredibly intimidating. A muscular bird with thick, black hair that puffed out in a ponytail, their skin was a deep brown. A single braid lay across their collarbone, adorned with a gem bead tied in. Golden eyes seemed to peer through Kazuaki in the same way Tohri’s did. Tohri seemed softer, not that he knew the other very well, but the Grackle could probably break him in half. 

With trembling hands, he shoved the money in their direction. “Um.. I need.. a new key..” The landlord didn’t take it, initially. Looking confused for the first few moments, they pinched their fingers around the cluster they were handed. After a long pause, they took the cash offering out of his hands. 

“What happened to the old one? I gotta write a report if you lost it.” Flicking through the bills, they stared down at Kazuaki. They never really noticed how small this tenant was, and didn’t have any memory of him. He’d never made a payment before, so they’d have to write his name down. 

“I lost it..” Kazuaki was trembling again. He felt so guilty, lying, but he didn’t want to burden anyone with the truth. And, he didn’t think he could talk about it yet, nor did he want to.

“Where did you lose it? Do you remember?”

“Obviously he does not remember, because if he did, it wouldn’t be lost!” Tohri remarked, sounding irritated at such a silly, pointless question. The grackle leered hard at him, and Kazuaki almost started crying at the tension in the room. This was so unnerving, and he was already upset by the series of events that lead to his “lost” keys.

“I threw them over a bridge.” Kazuaki lied, eyes watering as he tried to swallow his discomfort. “I tried to kill myself and didn’t want anyone to find me, so I threw them over a bridge, so nobody could get to me--but my door’s lock didn’t work, so I got saved anyways--I’m sorry--”

The grackle sighed, shoving the money in their pockets. “Try not to, next time. Take it outside or somewhere where I don’t have to lower rent because a kid died in our complex. Okay?”

That was so cold. Tohri gasped in offense, nearly bounding over the couch in an instant to give the landlord a verbal beatdown. But Kazuaki sniffled, nodding and grabbing Tohri’s hand before he could get in the taller person’s face. 

“Okay,” Kazuaki agreed. He didn’t want to die, so this promise wouldn’t be broken, if he could help it. However, he did fear that his new friend--his lord and savior, would break the promise for him. 

He just didn’t know. Tohri could be just like _Him._ He could be ashamed of him. He could pity him. He could try to kill him when he grew sick of his company--and he would never know until it was too late. 

But Kazuaki knew, now, not to take the pills while his pact-partner downed sugar. 

He knew he should trust Tohri. After saving him, and coming to the rescue, and offering a bed and his care--He felt like he should. But to say he did was a lie. Trusting someone blindly after they show up in an amazing circumstance was something Kazuaki had experienced before, someone saving him when he felt at his lowest--It was too familiar. While he felt that he owed Tohri trust, or care, or some speck of admiration, he couldn’t find it within him.

Perhaps _He_ tainted that for him forever. But for now, even with Tohri willing to defend him and chew out the landlord that may upset his sensitive feelings, he would not give Tohri his all. Not yet.

The landlord kept his eyes locked on Tohri. But Kazuaki interrupted the tension, his voice cracking as he tried to pull the biggest bird’s attention back. “S-so.” The stutter really did wonders for his confidence--he immediately felt nervous, realizing he wasn’t as prepared to speak as he thought. “Um, I’ll be staying here until the key is ready.. How many days should that take?”

“Three to five business days.” The Grackle still seemed to watch Tohri, though Kazuaki was their focus at the moment. “So, Wednesday through Friday or next week. Good luck, kid.” Both on dealing with Tohri and his mental health. “What’s your name again? Gotta write it down for the report.”

“Kazuaki Nanaki..” 

The big bird pulled a notepad out of their pockets, pulling a pen out of the ring-bound top. Writing down the name on a random page, they started outside, not looking up at either of them. Waving goodbye, the hulking bird disappeared outside, shutting the door behind them.

“What an asshole!” Tohri fumed, puffing himself up to nearly twice his size. This did scare Kazuaki a little, as he did worry about being hit by this stranger. Tohri deepened his voice, mocking the Grackle’s. “Take it outside or somewhere where I don’t have to deal with it! To believe they care more about having to lower rent than you dying!” 

“Well,” Kazuaki hummed, voice soft. He squeezed Tohri’s hand before releasing it, staring back into the bedroom. He felt more comfortable there, as the living room looked like his. He wasn’t sure how he would fare inside of his apartment, after all of the memories there.. He still had to take out the trash, he remembered. He was scared of the memories flooding back, but was trying to focus on something else at the moment. “I understand.. nobody really cares about me.. So it’s okay.. I’d feel really bad making them lose money because I was selfish..” 

“They get MORE than enough money to give a damn about their tenants!” Tohri squawked, following behind Kazuaki. Kazuaki felt mildly cornered, being tailed into the room. However, he still sat on the bed, curling against the headboard and glimpsing at Tohri. Maybe he should ask about the bandages..

“It’s okay, Mr. Nishikikouji.” How formal. Kazuaki twiddled his thumbs, pulling at the bandages. He wanted to unravel them, but that meant taking off his jacket.. Reluctantly pulling his jacket down around his arms, he was anxious to realize he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt underneath. He pulled the jacket back up immediately, trying not to give a glimpse at his arms. 

“It’s not okay!” Tohri seemed oblivious to Kazuaki’s distress. He seated himself at the foot of the bed, huffing. “Besides.. Don’t say nobody cares about you! I do!” They didn’t know each other particularly well, so Kazuaki doubted this.

“Mm,” Kazuaki mumbled idly, trying to pull his bandages off, starting at his fingers rather than up his arms. He wanted to dismiss this for the time being. It was hard to think that someone who hardly knew him could care, and opening himself up already would just.. be a bad idea. “Um.. When did we do my bandages..?” Kazuaki finally asked, getting a little frustrated with trying to remove them. They were so tight and firmly constricted his arms, which left them feeling sore.

“Leave them, so you can heal.” Tohri didn’t answer his question, and attempted to reach to pull his prying hands away from the bandages. But Kazuaki shoved his hands away again, recoiling to the touch. Shrinking back against the wall, he tried to avoid looking Tohri in the eyes as he asserted himself.

“Don’t touch me.” His soft voice seemed to harden, as did his expression. Someone who seemed to radiate gentleness reacting in such a way was unexpected. 

“Why?” Tohri seemed surprised. He did remove his hands and leave the quail with a few feet of personal space.

“I’m.. I’m not comfortable with you touching me yet. I don’t like people feeling my arms, anyways. My hands always hurt so I don’t like you grabbing those, either. So please, don’t touch me.” His words seemed rushed, like he was frustrated with himself for being set off. “If I hold your hand, it’s okay. But don’t touch me without my permission. I don’t like it and don’t want it. Do you understand?”

Tohri definitely understood. After being grilled so hard on his personal-space invasion, he couldn’t play pretend like he hadn’t invited himself into touching Kazuaki when he didn’t want to. He would of course have to take responsibility for upsetting the other. He nodded slowly, blinking owlishly. 

He wasn’t sure if he had ever been scolded like that. 

“When did you change my bandages?” Kazuaki asked, more sure this time. He motioned at his bandaged hands and pulled up his sleeve, revealing his fully-covered arm. 

“This morning. You took a shower before the landlord came, and I didn’t have any bandaids….” 

“I don’t remember it.. My memory isn’t very good lately. I can take care of myself, so.. um.. Please don’t do that again, unless I ask..” Kazuaki was sure he didn’t ask. He would never, ever ask anyone to help him cover his wounds, and there is no chance he would ever willingly expose his injuries to a complete stranger. Tohri might have not noticed that he was blurred out all day, so it wasn’t completely his fault--but Kazuaki likely had not even given complete consent.

His eyes focused on the bedside clock next to Tohri’s bed. It was about 5pm. Where did the time even go?

“Um..” Kazuaki cleared his throat, finally giving up on undoing the bandages. “I don’t like these bandages.. I like the sticky ones. Are you sure you don’t have any?” He felt very uneasy about asking Tohri for anything, still. That guilty feeling about being needy and ungrateful still made him incredibly anxious. 

“We can go to the pharmacy, if you want.” Tohri looked to the wall-clock. It wasn’t all that late, but it was winter.. It would be dark very soon. 

Kazuaki was very anxious. Going outside was already scary enough, especially when he looked as bad as he did. People would probably make fun of him.. And there was that thought again. What if someone saw him at the pharmacy with a stranger? What if they made fun of him for being with Tohri? What if they made fun of him for the fresh new bandages on his hands? He probably needed to pick up his medication, too, would they take his number and address and let him have his meds?

What if someone made made fun of him for needing medication? Would they notice he was gone for over a month?

What if _He_ was there?

Choked up, Kazuaki tried to will his way through the anxious fears. “..If you wouldn’t mind.. I don’t, um, have any money, as you know.. I’ll pay you back after I talk to my dad, though..” Kazuaki brought his hand back up to his mouth, nibbling at the off-white bandages. They tasted like a rubberband and had a texture that wasn’t all that pleasing, so he was forced to stop. Instead of biting at his knuckles, now, he began to nibble at the edges of his nails. 

“It’s fine.. I need to pick up a few things, anyways.” Tohri stood up, heading to his closet. “It’s probably in the negatives right now, or close. Do you need another shirt?” The jacket Kazuaki had was warm, but probably not warm enough. 

Kazuaki was sure Tohri was lying. If he needed to pick up a few things at the pharmacy, he would have already gone.. But he wasn’t going to say anything. Calling someone a liar over something so trivial and small..

He knew what a real liar was like. 

“Yeah.. Um, do you have any long-sleeved shirts..?” Like the other night. Kazuaki got up, approaching Tohri slowly. Like a shying deer, he moved very slowly and kept a considerable amount of distance. 

Tohri rummaged a little, ending up having to dig through the bottom of his closet again. He knew he definitely had some cute long-sleeved shirts down there, but he knew Kazuaki fit better into large shirts.. Still, Tohri’s torso was long enough to make up for his extra girth, maybe.. The pheasant soon picked out a cute violet button-up, presenting it to Kazuaki.

He didn’t seem interested. “That’s.. a little slender for me..” 

Maybe. But Tohri still set it out for him on the bed, trying to find another shirt. Eventually, he dug out another one inside of a shopping bag. It was a white turtleneck with long sleeves.. It wasn’t very flattering, but would definitely fit Kazuaki. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, as he’d never wear something so unflattering to his figure--it was probably from a partner that ran for it before morning came, and left their shirt. 

Kazuaki took it without complaint. “Thank you..” And away he went. Heading into the bathroom, Kazuaki shut the door, removing his jacket and shirt. The bandages were so tight, and his arms incredibly uncomfortable under all of that pressure. Refusing to look at his reflection in the mirror, he sifted through Tohri’s medicine cabinet, looking for a pair of scissors. 

He eventually found a pink pair of hair-cutting scissors on the second shelf, which he struggled to reach. It seemed most of the apartment was meant to accommodate Tohri’s excessive height. In the process, a vial that he had not seen fell into the sink, shattering and dumping the contents down the sinkhole. That.. wasn’t good, probably. Plucking up the shards of brown glass, he tried to avoid touching the fluid contents, getting the wrapper and top to dispose of. He was very careful about burying the glass in the trash bin, trying to avoid getting caught in his mistake. 

He was an honest boy, but.. being a fuck-up on Tohri’s list already would just be too much to bear. Covering the mess in the trash bin with used tissues and a cupcake wrapper, which somehow found its way to the bathroom, he went back to cutting his bandages off.

They slipped through the scissors stubbornly several times, the sharp blades leaving little slices in his excessively freckled skin. They stung faintly, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t gotten used to. They only bled a small amount. When Kazuaki finally managed to cut his bandages off, exposing his battered and scarred skin, he hurriedly pulled the turtleneck over his head, pulling it comfortably around himself.

It was soft and warm, much like himself. The texture was pleasant to touch, and he felt comforted by the pressure around his neck. He really missed his scarf, but burdening Tohri with another request would be a little much for the evening. Overall, the sweater felt like a clothy hug. 10/10, high score.

Pulling his jacket back on around his shoulders, he buttoned it up and left the bathroom. The short-sleeved shirt was left discarded on the tile flooring, forgotten among the shredded bandages. 

Tohri was half-dressed in his own room, different black pants wiggled on and a red button-up thrown on over his shoulders, but hanging open. He kept a warm woolly white scarf around his neck, dangling as he leaned into his vanity. While the walk to the pharmacy was only about a ten minute trek, he decided that he needed to do his makeup to perfection. He was lining his waterline as Kazuaki approached, observing his talents with the chalky red eyeliner that made him look like he was crying. Kazuaki didn’t quite understand the aesthetic, or why it looked fashionable and cute to appear like you had just been bawling in the high school sophomore girl’s bathroom, but he did find Tohri very pretty. Sitting in the chair set off to the side of the vanity, he observed with genuine curiosity as Tohri decorated himself.

“How do you do makeup?” Kazuaki asked softly. Tohri set the red liner to the side, brushing his hair back over his eye and his sort of wrinkly forehead. As he pat on a small bit of blush and covered two blemishes on his chin along the crease of his mouth, Tohri would periodically look over at Kazuaki.

“A lot of practice. If you ever want, I can do your makeup, too.” Finishing off the look with a deep pink lipstick, Tohri sealed his face off with some sort of spray. He should have put his hair down after that, but he didn’t really care. Hopefully it wasn’t too windy out.

“Um.. Maybe. I don’t think I’d look very good..” Kazuaki had begun to pluck at his own eyebrows as he spoke, obscuring his view from Tohri. 

“Do you want a brush?” Tohri asked as he combed through his bangs, letting them fall flat against his face. He looked very nice from most angles, especially in his profile view. His nose was very pronounced, and his eyelashes fell long against his cheeks. His lips were a lovely color, but they sparkled with the gloss he had carefully applied at the last moment with Kazuaki was distracted. Overall, Tohri was incredibly attractive.

“Oh.. Is my hair bad?” Kazuaki finally snapped back into it. Running his hands through his own hair, he found it was a curly, staticky mess thanks to his new sweater. 

“Not bad, per se.” Tohri reached into one of the drawers of the vanity, pulling out a large brush that seemed to be meant for a hair type not his own. Offering it to Kazuaki, he still kept focused on his own reflection. Very Narcissus. 

Kazuaki took the brush, fumbling with it a few times before brushing it slowly through his own hair. Within an instant, little particles of blonde hairs stuck up in an almost gravity-resisting manner. The brush immediately caught on a knot, leaving Kazuaki subject to its torment.

“Um.. I need help.” Help to brush his hair? Tohri stared hard at him for a few seconds, then nodded briskly. He wasn’t going to act like a jerk because Kazuaki was having trouble taming his messy hair. It was obvious he didn’t often participate in self-love and didn’t take a lot of time grooming, and the density of his curls would probably be an issue in itself.

Dragging the chair, which skidded beneath Kazuaki’s weight, Tohri pulled it in front of the vanity. Kazuaki felt very uncomfortable looking at his own reflection.

As Tohri began to pry the brush free from the death grips of Kazuaki’s wild mane, he had to sit and look at himself. He always felt very different from his body. Something about it had always seemed wrong--something about the way his face was shaped, and the brown-grey color of his eyes.. His dead-pale lips and his wide cheeks, his ears that were normally invisible under his curly hair. His eyes were very soft and round, but much too gentle-looking for him. He wanted to be harder. But alas, he was a small, round quail that could not look intimidating if his life depended on it. His eyebrows had been plucked along the sides, leaving occasional blonde-brown hairs sparse until a sudden thickness gathered around the inside of his brows. 

He could count each freckle on his face. He had desperately attempted to cover those up when he was younger, as they were partially a cause of bullying and torment over the years. The peaks of his cheeks were naturally much pinker than they currently were--it seemed that his normal color had been drained out of him during the last month. 

By the time Kazuaki had finished sorting his thoughts, Tohri had pulled his hair up into a cute little bun. Snapping back into focus, he was finally able to detect the pressure on the base of his scalp. He was surprised that his mess of a hairdo had managed to compress into such a small puff atop his scalp, pulled into a curly mess that was kind of cute..

Tohri seemed proud. Patting the top of the bun, he secured it with a third hair-tie. Kazuaki hadn’t noticed the initial brushing and binding with the first two--gold bands that nearly matched his hair color--but the final hair-tie was red and stood out well amongst the messy blonde puffs. His face was still framed with his curls, bouncing whenever he turned his head. He tilted and twisted his whole body, watching as the little puff jiggled atop his head. 

It looked very cute. He reached up to tweak a small curl that always seemed to stray free, twisting it around his finger. 

“O-oh.. thank you so much..” It actually looked nice, on him. Few things ever really flattered his face, but the bun balanced him out. His curls covered his pronounced ears and round cheeks, but emphasized his round face in a flattering manner.

“No problem!” Tohri beamed, stepping away to finish his own hair. He pulled his blonde-to-red tresses into a tight coil, then making a loose bun of his own. His was much neater, and probably easier to wear due to lack of resistance from a thousand curls desperately trying to break free. 

“Are you ready to go?” Tohri asked, reaching to hold Kazuaki’s sleeve--he did reconsider at the last moment, though, remembering being scolded. Backing away, Tohri motioned for Kazuaki to follow. 

“Ah.. Yeah! Um..” Kazuaki cleared his throat, standing up and approaching. He gestured at Tohri’s shirt, carefully closing it over his chest. “You forgot to button your shirt, and… Um..”

He definitely needed a jacket, but Kazuaki wasn’t willing to exchange his. Tohri started to button his shirt quickly while Kazuaki stepped into the closet, digging up a gold sequin-clad cheetah-print coat. Wow, that was so.. loud, and gaudy. He dumped it on the foot of the closet, searching for something much more appropriate for a cold winter’s evening. He eventually found a neglected red coat in the edges of the closet, pulling it out to present to Tohri. 

“Here. Um, put this on..” Thank you! Tohri swept the coat out of Kazuaki’s arms, pulling it on. It was warm enough for even the worst blizzards! It didn’t flatter the somewhat curvy shape of his body, but it was comfortable, with a padded and fluffy inside.

“Let’s go.” Tohri offered his hand, this time. Instead of taking Kazuaki’s without permission, he at least presented the option. Kazuaki did refuse, stepping past Tohri slowly. 

Outside, it was even colder than anticipated. It had been snowing, and the sidewalks were slippery enough to kill anyone with a miss-step. Tohri seemed comfortable in his coat, but Kazuaki was still a little chilled. His fingertips were cold, sore knuckles burning-hot. He buried his hands in his pockets, but found they were still chilled.. 

At least the walk wasn’t too far. The trembling quail kneaded the lint in his pockets, shredding unused tissues he kept tucked in the right side. On the left, he kept a good luck charm of a star bracelet and a small bottle of neosporin. He had lost the cap ages ago, so occasionally a little of the yellowish goo would bleed out of the tube, wetting the inside of his pockets and leaving a sticky residue.

“So!” Might as well make conversation. “What kinds of things do you like?” The fact that Tohri would even try to talk when his teeth were chittering was strange. Kazuaki rolled his thumb along the beads of his bracelet, watching the ground. Tohri’s heels were amazing--he was so impressed that the pheasant hadn’t tripped yet and seemed totally unafraid of walking on the slick concrete.

“I like.. music. I don’t write or make any, though.” Kazuaki’s ears were cold. Maybe the bun was a bad idea. “And I like..” He squeezed the bracelet again. It was much too small for him to wear anymore, as he had it since he was very young, but it always felt nice to play with. “I like stars.. Constellations and space are one of my interests..”

“Aha! I do, as well! I knew you would have _something_ in common with me.” Unfortunately, the sky was clouded, and staring up would leave one with a mouthful of snow and snowflakes caked to their eyelashes. “My favorite constellation is Pavo! The Peacock! It is not a golden pheasant, however, it is close enough!” 

“Mine is Corona Borealis, the Northern Crown..” _His_ favorite was the Triangulum Australe, the Southern Triangle. It was so unfortunate that everything important in Kazuaki’s life, he had shared with that person. It was also unfortunate that _He_ was such an undeniably boring person, a person with a brain filled with mathematics and yet, no compassion whatsoever. Kazuaki brought his hands up to his mouth, but his fingertips chilled as he gnawed at them idly once more.

“Wonderful choice!” Tohri chimed, stepping over a particularly slick spot. Kazuaki, however, was focused on his nibbled fingertips and hangnails--his feet skid out from beneath him, backside hitting the concrete in an instant. Ow.

The ground was cold and his tailfeathers hurt. When he tried to put his hands on the ground to help himself up, his palms would stick to the ice and chill him. Kazuaki whined as he wobbled, struggling to stand up. 

This time, Tohri offered his hands again. He towered high over Kazuaki, eyes glinting in the streetlights. “I won’t hold them! Will you allow me to help you up?” 

“..Yes.” Kazuaki leaned to the side, knees sliding up. He took Tohri’s hands, leveraging himself up to get back onto his feet. He was still so impressed that Tohri could do so much, especially help him to his feet when with he was in heels, and when Kazuaki was being such a problem..

But when Kazuaki got up, he didn’t release Tohri’s hands. He instead held them, basking in the warmth of Tohri’s palms. They were soft, and felt like cashmere, in a way. Aside from rough fingertips that he ignored, his hands were perfect. Kazuaki continued walking, trying to keep two steps ahead of the other as he paved the way to the pharmacy, arms draped behind him as a connective measure.

The pheasant wouldn’t complain, but also wouldn’t overstep boundaries. Erring on the side of caution, he was trying to avoid making Kazuaki uncomfortable or upset again. He would not squeeze Kazuaki’s hand back at various prompts to do so, hoping to avoid accidentally injuring the small bird that had placed his trust on him.


	3. Flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy (slightly early) Birthday, Kazuaki-kun. I'm sorry this chapter is such a downer.

As the duo approached the pharmacy, the nearer they came, the more Kazuaki had begun to resist against Tohri’s grip. His knees had begun to buckle, feet dragging along the chilled asphalt. He debated internally whether he had the courage or not to step inside, fearing what may come with exposing himself, and revealing that he was still alive. People, mockery, and perhaps even the one who had ruined him. Even with the comfort of an escort, his trembling frame could only be dragged inside through the automatic sliding doors, whirring as they parted ways. His soles could not hook into the sidewalk with the friction-resistant ice, leaving him to simply skid behind Tohri.

Stepping inside, the lights were incredibly bright. A blasting air heater flattened Kazuaki’s curls against the sides of his head as he walked beneath, warming him immediately, Tohri guided him to let him stand in the carpet’s grips to knock the ice off of his shoes. He tamped out his own heels roughly as Kazuaki cautiously imitated his gesture, his fingers sliding away from the pheasant’s reluctantly. He raised his hands to meet the air-heater, frosted fingertips warming up immediately, his bitten and gnawed-at skin raw and aching as they were saved from near-frostbite. He regretted not bringing gloves.

The sliding doors opened again, blasting him with a wave of cold as he stood in front of the heater. A woman walked through, entering the pharmacy, not at all acknowledging the blonde basking in the heat as she stepped past. Kazuaki shivered roughly as he shifted his jacket tighter, stepping away from the door and fully inside of the pharmacy. 

“I’m going to the back windows--get your bandages, and I’ll meet you back there.” Tohri announced suddenly, stepping away from the shaking quail. He was quickly stopped, though, the edge of his coat grabbed to pull him back. The smaller bird had lifted his arm, tucking himself under it insistently. For someone who did not enjoy touch, he definitely kept himself close to the other while in public.

Tohri simply accepted his fate, allowing Kazuaki to curl into the crook of his elbow. He rested his arm around the other’s shoulders, pausing. “Would you prefer I pick up my order, first, or would you like to get your bandages?” Presenting the option, he made an outward hand gesture to the left and center, hardly lifting his arm from around Kazuaki’s neck to motion to the center aisles. 

“...The order..” Kazuaki murmured, starting to walk--He lifted both arms to rest his hands against his throat, finding the lack of his scarf overwhelming. He still could not force himself to get a new one--the memory too fresh of those icy hands prying his away, leaving his throat barren and cold. The red scarf drifting in front of his peripheral view, and that voice.. That voice.

Kazuaki had begun to shake again. This time, it was not the cold. However, Tohri simply pulled him in, offering what body warmth he had--This was an incorrect assumption of what he wanted, and Kazuaki ducked beneath his arm to hold it, rather than keep the embrace. He still trembled, but a little less so as he was grounded by this new adjustment. 

They headed to the back windows, and Tohri went first. He spoke so casually to the cashier behind, making Kazuaki aware that they definitely already knew each other. Maybe Tohri was a regular. Maybe he also needed anti-depressants… Kazuaki’s thoughts wandered as they spoke, a verbal tennis where he would only occasionally catch every other word. He had no idea what Tohri got or what he needed it for, due to his inability to focus on anything at that moment but the possible past between the two. 

“Did you need something?” The voice behind the counter asked, finally snapping Kazuaki out of his trance. Tohri stood with a small plastic pharmacy bag over his arm, having already somehow finished his transaction. Kazuaki was unsure of how long his thoughts had wandered, and he anxiously stared the girl down, unblinking as he tried to remember what they were doing.

The pied quail girl behind the counter was very cute. A round face and vitiligo patterning, her chin and jaw was marked with deep brown skin and her face was a flowery pink color, meeting with the darker skin under her eyes and the edge of her hairline. Her hair was curly and black, twisted in tight braids with small white extensions lining the insides. She wore a pharmacist’s set of scrubs, her hands gloved neatly as she waved at Kazuaki. Her nametag said “Aquila”, for an eagle among the constellations in the sky. 

“Did you need something?” She repeated patiently, tapping her fingers twice on the table. Kazuaki still gave her that doe-eyed look, like a deer standing directly in the path of a car’s headlights. Not faltering in her patience, she raised her hands to sign at him. Kazuaki did know sign language, having used it many times in his childhood during times of nonverbal communication. She asked with her gloved hands, “Do you need help?” her wrists fluttering back to the desk so gracefully as she awaited an answer. 

Kazuaki struggled with figuring out how he wanted to communicate. He hadn’t practiced sign language in such a long time, and he fretted as he tried to remember how to get his point across. What if he accidentally offended her or signed incorrectly? He raised his hands in front of his body, knocking his fists together anxiously before signing “yes”, opening his hand in a quick motion as he reached into his pockets. He didn’t have his wallet, nor his card, he remembered--Approaching the desk, he rested his elbows on the edge, biting at his lower lip anxiously. 

He’d have to speak. Holding his breath, he avoided her warm brown eyes as he fidgeted. “Um..” Finding his words, he quietly asked: “I don’t have my medical card, a-and my wallet was stolen--” Not stolen. He flashed back to those hands, rummaging through his purse. Digging through his belongings. Breath hitching in his throat, he corrected himself with a lie, trying to keep consistent with every lie he stated before: “I lost it. Ca.. Can I give you my number and address...? Can I get my.. my antidepressants that way..?” Hm.. She paused thoughtfully, leaning in with her elbows on the opposite side of the table. 

“Have you worked with us before? Is your name in the system? Or... Do you know your ID card number?” She tried to maintain eye contact, watching Kazuaki’s expression for some hint of understanding. She resumed signing as she spoke, just in case he lost his words once more.

“U-uh, I’ve come here before.. I’ve had the same prescription for.. a couple months.. I’m bad with numbers, though..” 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Her voice didn’t sound condescending, and she seemed genuine in the assigning of this pet-name. She leaned to her side, pulling out the keyboard as she adjusted in her chair to check the monitor.

“Kazuaki Nanaki.” The response was slow--she did recognize him, fortunately. She smiled at him a bit, signing “quiet” as she clicked around a bit. 

“What’s your prescription for?” 

“Uh, Zoloft.” She blinked up at him, prompting the second half with a vague rolling hand gesture. “...100/mg.. for 30 days..”

She smiled at him, nodding. “Alright, and what is your phone number?”

He rattled off his father’s phone-number, as his was typically the number he gave. She nodded and stood up, turning away to head into the back. “Come back in 10 minutes, okay?” Kazuaki nodded quietly.. Tohri looked impatient, but didn’t really so much mind 

The quail, clad in white slacks and a white button-up with an off-pink coat, disappeared into the back of the pharmacy. She would get everything together and call for approval to give him the prescription, which was a week overdue, anyways. 

Kazuaki stepped back some, glimpsing up at Tohri. 

“She’s getting it.” He mumbled, fumbling with his hands again. Silently, he turned left, heading down the aisles in search of bandages. He walked across a case of canes, a handful of vitamins… He quickly moved past the feminine hygiene aisle, finally locating the band-aids on the opposite side of the pharmacy. Tohri followed behind, pausing in front of the bandages.

Kazuaki was now presented with options. Sticky skin-colored bandages, sticky clear bandages, sticky rainbow bandages… Bandages with kittens, with birds, with puppies. Some with pink tiger-print, some with glittery stripes.. He wasn’t sure which ones he wanted. Presented with all of these choices, he already became overwhelmed. He touched each package to look at the top, quickly averting his eyes from the overly expensive brand-name kinds. He definitely preferred cute colors, with glitter and patterns. 

Tohri looked at the many packages, starting to notice that Kazuaki was struggling with this decision. He also began to look, quickly locating a pack of bandaids perfect for him, though Tohri only rarely sustained injuries. The package of band-aids he grabbed was a box of 40 in varying shapes and styles, light pink with various tiger-stripes and covered in glitter. Water-resistant, as well.. 

Kazuaki was still struggling. He quietly looked between several boxes before Kazuaki took his hand, planting the box down into his palm. Kazuaki took it, going quiet as he looked at the box--It was perfect. 

“Could I use these..?” The quail asked, trailing off as he looked at the back of the box, noting that it also had a couple of leopard-print patterned band-aids in the box. They were all pink, however. 

“Of course--you’re why I’m getting them! I hardly get harmed often enough..”

Kazuaki went quiet as he nodded slowly, holding the box protectively between his hands. A overwhelming sense of guilt hung above his head as he realized he got harmed frequently, on his own accord. He also felt guilty for making Tohri get something for him. Swallowing this guilt put a lump in his throat, but he selectively attempted to ignore it. 

“Thank you..” Kazuaki mumbled, taking Tohri’s hand as he watched the box, as if it would do something should he stare hard and long enough. The box did not change, nor did it warp as he gazed at it, proving that this was all real. The words on the front, he could read, and his hands did not distort. Kazuaki immediately began to become very invested in watching his bitten hands, hoping to catch them begin to alter and prove this was a dream. He could only wish that this wasn’t real--that perhaps he was simply laying in bed back home, dreaming through a whole month of everything that hurt.

Weightless, he shifted on his feet, his eyes seemingly glazing as he peered through the box, his eyes focusing on the white tile floor beneath his shoes. He overlooked the heels pacing against them in place, the world fading into quiet as he waited for reality to kick back in. 

He did appreciate Tohri, and he did appreciate the attempts he made at being kind, but all he really wanted was for this to be over, for himself to be better, for himself to not be here. 

He didn’t know _where_ he wanted to be. Dead or alive, though, he knew he didn’t want to be here. A static crackled overhead as he was torn from this spiral, his attention shifted to the ceiling, speaking to him. God over speakerphone, he listened to the soft voice behind the intercom. 

“Kazuaki Nanaki?”

Perhaps it really was God. Perhaps it was just a dream, and he was surprisingly lucid. The voice dragged him deeper into this fit of dissociation, his gaze drifting to his mirrored image on the walls. 

“Your prescription is ready. Please head to the pharmacy.”

Reality stabbed him in the ribs, twisted the blade, and stuck it in him like a dart. His brain, still fluttering, went to the realization that anyone could have heard that. The word of God was simply a small, kind quail girl speaking to him through the speakers, a girl that anyone could hear, and the realization followed in a pattern:

“I need to get my prescription.”  
“She spoke to me to tell me to get my prescription.”  
“She spoke to me so anyone could hear it--Perhaps there is another Kazuaki Nanaki.”  
“Anyone could hear it--Anyone including Hitori Uzu--”

Kazuaki snapped out of his drift with a start, his shoulders and body straight and erect as he grabbed between his ribs, the burning pain literal as he felt himself wretch. He had thought himself into a panic attack, the sudden thought jamming itself stubbornly in his brain that _Hitori Uzune_ was undoubtedly, absolutely, _definitely_ here with him. 

Without thinking, his feet started to move. The box of band-aids still clenched deathly tight in his hands, he made a beeline for the door, every aisle a maze that he couldn’t escape. The buzz of the intercom, and someone’s shrill voice filled his ears, an indiscernible squawk that dragged out in a low hum as he grew distant, eventually finding the door. He hardly made it through the doors, them not opening fast enough for him to clear--he clipped both of his elbows as he ran outside, barely squeezing through the doors as they moved The overhead speaker began to beep, the deep noise startling him as he realized he was still gripping the box. He had technically shoplifted in his panic, simply making him panic more. He threw the box inside, back through the theft-detection machine, dashing for home. 

He didn’t know where he was going. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. But the ice was slick beneath his feet, so he simply ran in the road, where salt stuck into the bottoms of his shoes and the blurry headlights in sets of twos dashed past him with a deep, low bellow every now and again. 

His chest throbbed and his thighs ached as he ran, having never run this far or this long before. The cold winds hurt his face, the bun still surprisingly intact atop his head, his lips cracking and bleeding as he bit at them, clenching his hands into tight fists as he bolted.

Only when he ran out of breath did he stop. His throat burned, and he didn’t know where he was. Gripping a pole that stood about level with his hips, he trembled and coughed, his eyes aching and eyelashes bristling with snow caught in them. He buried his head in his hands, finding his palms to be just as cold as the wind that blew in his face. 

His tears had only then begun to pour. They felt burning-hot on his face, freezing before they dripped from his chin and onto his chest, still scarfless. With an open sob, he noticed people standing to his flanked sides. They all gathered around some high, tall statue, illuminated with many gold lights. Couples had begun to scoot away from him, drifting from the crying man struggling with withholding the noises pooled in the back of his throat. 

Holding his face, he tried to retain his sobs as he came down from this fit of panic, his heart still racing, still pounding dry beneath his ribcage. His lungs swelled with cold air that he couldn’t quite catch, his throat burning as he finally caught his breath. 

“Kazuaki!” The only slightly familiar voice spoke, startling him as something latched onto the back of his coat. A large, warm hand had pried at the edge of his jacket, pulling him into someone’s chest. They smelled like some sort of feminine, flowery perfume, and far from home. A simple button-up shirt covered thin, cold arms, a red and panting face covered by messy blonde hair. They held a weapon in their hand--Kazuaki wasn’t sure what it was, but it was mildly threatening.

“Wh--why did you run off like that?” Tohri panted, holding his shoes in his hand. One heel had snapped in half, leaving them useless as he stood with chilly feet atop the stone ground. His feet most definitely hurt--having run through all of that asphalt and road and salt, and now he stood on rock… Kazuaki was surprised he wasn’t bleeding. 

But he wouldn’t voice that. Knocking Tohri’s heels to the ground, he wrapped his arms around the taller man, sobbing into his chest. His tears were warm as they stained his shirt, but quickly turned cold, freezing Tohri’s chest. The pheasant shivered at the sobs, pushing Kazuaki away.

He bent down to gather up his broken heels as he took Kazuaki’s hand, dragging him into the nearest warm establishment. It was a simple coffee shop and café, atmospherically decorated in red and brown. It was warm inside, and Tohri thrust Kazuaki into a booth seat, wiping his arms and chest off. He was frustrated, but knew not to take it out on someone already upset. His heels were dumped on the table, leaving mud on the clean surface. 

Tohri picked up a handful of napkins, wiping off his own chest. He then leaned across, holding Kazuaki’s face to wipe his cheeks, his eyes, and his jaw. Discarding the wet napkins on the table, he then sat down, squeezing Kazuaki’s hands.

“Do you have any allergies?” 

“Wh--” Kazuaki started, his brown eyes gazing hopelessly at the pheasant. “N-no..”

“Good. Sit here.” Kazuaki was left in the dust as Tohri stood once more, disappeared behind the counter. After a few minutes, which seemed like a lifetime, he slammed a Styrofoam cup down on the table in front of the quail. 

He had his own, and he sat across from Kazuaki, staring him down. The warm room had finally given Kazuaki feeling in his hands once more. He lifted the cup to his face, letting the too-sweet smell drift into his face, making him cough lightly. Across a brown strip on the Styrofoam, the word “Kazoo” was written down in cutesy, long letters by someone with the handwriting of a gradeschool child.

His nickname. He slumped his shoulders as he blew at the rim, watching the steam blow across the table. His heart was still pounding much too hard for him to drink, his hands too shaky to safely transfer the fluid into his mouth. 

Tohri sipped his own drink expertly, not at all bothered by the impressive heat. His lipstick stained the rim of his cup, fascinating Kazuaki. He seemed to watch solely Tohri’s mouth, his eyes following their movement as the other began to speak. He always seemed so eloquent--even the stain of his lips perfect, the movements of his long, gangly fingers slow and careful. 

As Kazuaki mused, he felt the pressure atop his head go slack, a snap following as his hair fell loose around his head once more. It seemed that his hairband snapped--rocketing a piece at Tohri, the pheasant shot in the face with two pieces of the elastic. It didn’t hurt, but it made him jump, splashing his drink on the table. Just a bit, fortunately, rather than the whole cup. Kazuaki reached up to brush his fingers through his now-loose hair, fretting over how it may look, and if Tohri would be upset with him for breaking the elastics. 

“I’m so sorry--” Kazuaki started, before the other bird shook his head, ignoring the apology in favor of the too-sweet coffee. An awkward silence ensued until Tohri had swallowed down a majority of his drink. Finally feeling ready to talk, he set his drink down, watching Kazuaki’s face. It seemed Kazuaki had fallen back into some sort of trance, glimpsing at Tohri’s mouth and hands, and all of his finer details.

“Why did you do that? At the pharmacy. Why did you run?” Tohri asked, trying to seem relaxed as he slumped across the table some. Kazuaki simply gave him that vacant, yet fascinated look. “Kazuaki?” 

“S-sorry,” the quail finally answered, holding the cup to warm his hands. He stared down at the top, swishing the liquid inside a bit side to side, careful to not let it tip over. “..I got scared.”

“I can tell.” Tohri reached over to offer his hand across the table. Kazuaki, this time, did take it--he knitted his fingers through Tohri’s, satisfying the prying touches of the other man. Tohri sipped his coffee again, giving Kazuaki’s hand a chaste squeeze as he did so. The quail’s hands were incredibly small compared to his, his fingers barely grazing his knuckles when slid up his palms and around. “Do you want to talk about it? I am always lending a listening ear, you know.”

Kazuaki immediately dodged the question, lifting his cup to sip the broiling-hot coffee. He ignored that his tongue burned, downing a mouthful--it was incredibly sweet, much more so than he expected. 

“How much sugar did you put in this?” Not exactly an answer to what Tohri asked. 

“4 pumps of caramel, and a load of sugar. I like mine sweet, so I just got the same kind for you--is that alright?” He didn’t free Kazuaki’s hand, still just keeping it in a careful grip as he pet it, sipping his own coffee again.

“Y-yes, but I’m not sure how I’ll sleep, now.. Caffeine and sugar at night isn’t a good idea..” This didn’t seem to concern Tohri, though. The pheasant puffed up some, shivering as a gust of wind blew in through the doorway as another bird entered. 

From the cold, a man clad in a black peacoat and suit top pulled over a beige sweater-vest and clashing purple button-up slid inside the café, through the swinging doors. His shoulder-length hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, a purple band keeping the curly clumps together. Tohri selectively overlooked this man, his focus on Kazuaki, still.

“Eh, we’ll stay awake together. You can help me with grading classwork--it’s good practice, y’know.” With a playful wink, Tohri finally pulled his hand away, rubbing at his sides. He wished he hadn’t discarded his jacket when he made a run after the panicking quail, but he wouldn’t have been able to run as fast if he kept it on. His poor heels, too… He just then started to notice how sore his feet were, though he would attempt to overlook it. “First, we have to go get your meds and band-aids.”

“I’m not going back to the pharmacy.” The quail suddenly showed a bout of stubbornness, his face going pale as a sheet as he glimpsed away to the man standing in line with that horribly mismatched outfit. 

“And why is that?” Huffing dejectedly, Tohri slid his cup to the side, reaching over to offer both hands to Kazuaki. His own fingertips were cold, and Kazuaki seemed to radiate an internal heat that would keep him comfortable. 

“Because I’m not. Is that okay with you? Do I need _permission_ to not want to do something?” Tohri pulled his hands away slowly as Kazuaki spoke. His words were harsh--he didn’t mean them, and he didn’t mean to attack him like that, but it was the instinctively brutal response to something he found too pressuring. Kazuaki quickly took Tohri’s hands, wincing at the pressure on his sores and bitemarks. He didn’t mean it. 

“.. I suppose not. Do you want to go back to the apartment? I’ll give you my keys. I can get the band-aids, but not your medication, probably.” Tohri wasn’t going to grill him on the sudden outburst, knowing that it was probably just an impulsive scolding for overstepping his boundaries. 

“..I’ll be fine without it. Please just.. get the band-aids. I can go back to your apartment, and I’ll let you in…”

“That’s fine.” Tohri stood up, getting his coffee and offering a hand to Kazuaki. He simply dumped his heels on the table, leaving them as a mess for the table-cleaners later in the evening. Kazuaki took his hand, standing up and getting his own coffee. He probably wouldn’t drink all of it, but it kept his hands warm. Tohri rummaged through his pockets, getting the apartment keys to hand to Kazuaki, giving him a firm pat on the head. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes. I’ll tell them you just felt sick abruptly. Ciao, darling!” 

A wave of the hand, and Tohri sprinted out of the door. He had to run to keep from freezing too much, even though his feet hurt.. what a trooper. But Kazuaki wasn’t just going to leave the heels on the table. Approaching the counter, cutting in front of the man with curly brown hair in his peacoat, he slid the dirty heels across to present to the cashier on the other side. “..Um, these were left behind.. Do you have a trashbin..?”

“What kind of person discards of their shoes on a table?” The shorter man commented, his violet eyes locking on Kazuaki’s hands as he approached. His skin was a deep brown, his hair only a shade darker, frame smothered in many layers to keep him warm. He adjusted on his red-tipped cane as he was handed a coffee--just black, from how bitter it smelled even from a distance. 

“Oh, um.. They just left it on the table, I didn’t..” A cashier took the heels as they were presented, looking a bit confused. She just dumped them to the trash on the side, amongst many empty Styrofoam cups. 

“A _slob,_ is the answer.” Behind red-framed glasses, he gave a condescending sneer to the blonde in front of him. Just beneath the hem of his coat, a name-tag labeled him as Isa Souma. This name seemed vaguely familiar to Kazuaki, but he couldn't recall why. With a shy nod, Kazuaki fumbled with his hands, backing away. 

“I.. I g-guess.. Maybe they just… forgot to clean up..” He wouldn’t defend Tohri too much--not wanting to put his neck on the line, he dropped it there.

This man, Isa Souma, simply shook his head. “May they hope that they are not prone to frostbite. Good day.” And with that smug, slightly threatening answer, he stepped past Kazuaki, heading outside and away from the café.

Hoping to discard any memories of this conversation, Kazuaki started back to the apartment complex. He really wanted to take his time, although it was cold. The chilly air was comforting, though it was harder to navigate when his hair was down, blowing wildly into his eyes. 

After some time, he found the apartments. The world seemed so peaceful, at night. So quiet. Without peering eyes from strangers, or the judgement and ridicule of people on the street, he could simply stare up into the clouded sky and relax. His fingers were cold and sore, but he felt very comforted by the sky and the cold he bundled himself against. 

Kazuaki seated himself on a large stone in front of the complex, labeled with their apartment numbers. The sky was cloudy, but he was still able to confide in it--the stars, of which he could only see a few, and the moon shyly peeking between the clouds seemed so much closer, now.

He had missed the train through the sky, but he knew that one day he would have his ticket. While he did regret not boarding, he did find that the departure time was a bit early for someone like himself. It had finally begun to settle in his mind that perhaps, he did not want to die yet. Despite begging to, impatiently edging the end for so many years--maybe life had potential. Having written it off so easily, he never bothered to truly live, finding the trivial nature of it all just too much to bear. 

_He_ did not give Kazuaki the gift of life, or the gift of admiring what he had. Instead, he had simply given Kazuaki more of a reason to love himself, upon slowly figuring out no-one else ever would. It seemed too sad--to recognize that he truly believed he was of no worth to anyone, that is. 

What were the stars like? He knew they were warm, and the galactic railroad was a one-way tram around them. Sugarcubes in the sky could be gathered, the herons harvested and compressed like living rock-candy. While he knew, logically, there were no herons in the sky, nor were there sugarcubes preparing to be caught in a bag, or milk in the rivers of heaven, he just couldn’t help but wonder where he would have ended up. It surely didn’t just stop at the ground.

Either way, dead or alive, he was alone, now. He would have been alone in the end, no matter what happened. Even with his mother, the nurses, his neighbour--he would _always_ be own his own. _He_ would not board the train, or even hold his hand as he convulsed to death and his liver failed. _He_ would not even wait patiently to take his scarf--which he now grew aware of, once more, as he reached blindly for the hem that was not there. He insulted him as he died, and just would not let him have a happy ending.

Poor quail, poor quail.

Kazuaki’s eyes watered, and he lifted the scarf he did not have to dab at his eyes. He instead used the edge of his shirt, the snow masking his tears as it fell onto his face, melting slowly against his cheeks. He was incredibly tired, but didn’t want to go inside, yet. 

Once again, a feminine, high voice surprised him. Tohri waved from the pavement over the hill, and he walked carefully over the slick spots on the concrete. “Why are you still out here? Did you lose my keys?” Of course not. Tohri had acquired a pair of flats and had a bag dangling from his forearms, coat once again on his lithe frame. Kazuaki struggled with a response, blinking vacantly as he was dragged back out of his thoughts.

“No.. I was cooling off.” He dug through his pockets to get the keys, dangling them high for Tohri to see. The pheasant seemed to relax, approaching quickly to pluck them out of Kazuaki’s fingers. 

“I got you band-aids, and I managed to bullshit getting your meds.” He lifted the bag over Kazuaki’s head, motioning at it. “Aren’t you cold?”

Kazuaki paused, not wanting to complain. He did feel very cold, but they would be inside soon. He shook his head, but Tohri pulled him in a bit, unwinding his own scarf from his neck. He twisted it loosely around Kazuaki’s shoulders and neck, letting it drape comfortably over his jacket. 

While for approximately four seconds, Kazuaki appreciated the tactile feeling and the warmth, something seemed _Very, very wrong._ The warm hands braced on his shoulder, the memory of a scarf wound around his neck, followed by a kiss. The lips on his were imagined, Tohri not even close to invading his personal space in such a manner. But Kazuaki started bawling again.

Unsure of how to react, Tohri raised the edge of his loaned scarf, wiping Kazuaki’s face. “What’s wrong, now?” Why did everything he did seem to make Kazuaki cry? He understood that Kazuaki was delicate, but no matter what how innocuous his gestures were, they always seemed to upset the small quail. Kazuaki breathed deeply, trying to restrain the tears already draining from his eyes. 

Kazuaki felt guilty for seemingly everything setting him off--and Tohri’s tone of voice definitely didn’t make it any better. But instead of dwelling, Tohri took Kazuaki by the shoulders, hauling him inside so he could cry in the warmth and comfort of his apartment. He threw the door open, helping Kazuaki onto the couch while he sobbed. The door fell closed as Tohri settled next to Kazuaki on the cushions, opening the bag--he had the receipt, a small white baggy labeled with Kazuaki’s name, and two packages of band-aids. 

“Which band-aid do you want?” This was a lackluster attempt at grounding Kazuaki, but he was trying very hard to distract him from whatever reason he was crying for. Those tear-filled eyes eventually turned his way, and Kazuaki sniffled as he stared at the patterns on the box. The options of kitten band-aids and pink, glittery band-aids were a nice decision, and one not too stressful to make. Kazuaki removed the scarf, setting it to the side as he eventually calmed down, pulling his sleeves up from around his fingers. 

“Can I have a few of both on each hand?” He eventually asked. Tohri simply smiled in response, pulling a few of the long band-aids out of their boxes. He peeled back the slips, motioning for Kazuaki’s hands.

“May I put them on?” At least he asked, this time. Kazuaki nodded his consent, laying his hand across Tohri’s knee. His fingers were slowly, carefully wrapped up, his injuries covered with the bands. He did prefer the pink ones, but Tohri put a kitten band-aid on both of his index fingers and one of his middle fingers. 

“Do you like cats?” Tohri eventually asked in the silence, “Do your parents have any pets?” It was nice idle conversation as Kazuaki’s fingers were tended to. 

“My dad has one.” Kazuaki responded, watching Tohri’s movements carefully, his stress clearing up, finally. He felt less on-edge, his anxiety attack passing as fast as it came. At least Tohri knew better than to put a scarf on him, now. “But I’m allergic to cats.”

“What a shame--you’re missing one of the many joys of life.” Tohri joked, slowly slipping on the last bandage across Kazuaki’s knuckles. “But, do you like them?”

“I love them.. My eyes get all watery and I get sneeze-y when I’m near them, though.” Kazuaki smiled a bit, wiping away the last of his tears. He was feeling a lot better, now. 

“Will cat videos make you feel better?” Tohri carefully rubbed Kazuaki’s knuckles, giving him the open opportunity to pull his hands away. Kazuaki didn’t, and instead rested his fingers against Tohri’s knee, enjoying the gentle affection. He nodded slowly at the question, and Tohri motioned back to his bedroom. 

“Let’s go watch some cat videos.”


End file.
